


Leo

by Dealbrekker



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime - Freeform, But nothing over the top, F/M, Fix-it fic, WIP, my contribution to the fix-it party, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dealbrekker/pseuds/Dealbrekker
Summary: Jaime went North for Brienne of Tarth and left her in the night, victim of old ghosts and older doubts.  But it's a long way to King's Landing, and the moon and stars are bright.  Bright enough to clear the mind.





	Leo

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the fix-it fics. Even if they somehow magically make some of this better in the last episode, I'll continue to update the story. It won't be very long anyway :)

Jaime was roughly halfway to King’s Landing when his mind surfaced from the darkness.

A little over a week had passed since he’d left Winterfell in the dead of night.  It was night now; the sun having sunk several hours ago.  The moon followed his progress, slinking in and out of the clouds.  Long, ponderous minutes of shadow would suddenly give way to a blaze of light.  It was blinding on the semi-snowy road.  He was reminded of a cat stalking its prey with the ebb and surge of the moonlight.  Or a wolf.

He could almost imagine the Stark girl haring down on him, an avenging Saint snarling for his head.

And he’d bloody well deserve her wrath.

He shook himself and kicked his heels into his horse.  He’d acquired this one from an obliging farmer some fifteen miles back.  He’d been happy to trade Jaime for a more northern animal. 

“Can’t say I was expecting this much snow,” the man had chuckled as he saddled up Jaime’s current mount.  “But if it’s to be winter, best to have a winter horse.”

Jaime had simply nodded his thanks and rode on.  The news of the battle at Winterfell must not have reached this far south yet—or had been summarily scoffed at.  The dregs of the weather had certainly come this far.

A chill crept down Jaime’s spine as the battle forced itself back into his thoughts.  Dead, icy men rising, killing everyone; mindlessly, needlessly.  Hell-bent on their aim at the expense of self-destruction…

_You’re a good man_.

He winced and lurched in his seat.  The horse snorted and burst forward in an agitated gallop.  Jaime tugged on the reigns lightly and murmured to the animal.  They fell back into an easy trot.  He couldn’t afford to have an accident in the dark.

The moon returned as if mocking his caution, and he blinked in the light.  The road was still clear.

His heart wasn’t.

The pain had not lessened.  No matter how coldly he turned away from what he’d done, no matter how far south he came.  He couldn’t get away from what he’d done to _her_.  What he’d made her believe for so long.

A wolf howled far off.  The horse made a disgruntled sound, but Jaime soothed it once again.

_All for Cersei.  All for Cersei.  I killed and maimed and tortured all for Cersei.  Only for Cersei._

His crimes hissed through the leaves of the trees to either side of him.  _I am not a good man.  I will never be a good man.  I fooled myself for so long.  There is no other end for us but each other._ The thought was cruelly relieving in a way.  To just return to what was always meant to be.  _Just us._

The wind murmured in response, soft and resonant.  Jaime thought of _her_ voice, swollen with grief and fear.

_You’re not you’re sister.  You’re a good man._

_I thought I was._

_You’re a good man._

_A good man._

_You’re a good man._

“GOOD MAN.”

Jaime started and the horse came to a stop, stamping its hooves in fear.  The raven that had burst from a tree circled overhead, still croaking wildly and parroting _good man_ back to him.

The horse could not be calmed this time.  The moon had vanished once more.  Jaime cursed and slid to the ground and fussed clumsily at the bridle with his numbed left hand.  He hadn’t realized how the air had been affecting his fingers.  His golden hand hung uselessly at his side.  The bird still screamed in the air above him.

“Fucking winged rat,” he spat as the horse continued its merry dance of nerves.  Jaime glanced up at the bird.  It landed on a branch and went quiet.  It looked at him with its beady eyes.  He half expected it to call his name.

He blanched, and the cold that had been dogging him cut deeper yet.  “Bran?” he whispered.

A tree branch snapped to his left and spun away from the horse, hand going to his sword.  The noise was of a person approaching.  He gripped the hilt firmly, but remained still.  Even the damned horse had become stone.  The raven muttered in its branch.  He ignored it and stared into the trees.

“State your business,” he commanded, pleased to find his voice steady.

He adjusted his footing when no answer came.  The rustling grew louder still, and he couldn’t decide if he found comfort or worry in the fact that this couldn’t be the younger Stark girl.  He’d have never heard that one coming for him.

When an old, bent woman came out of the trees, the moon finally returning enough to show her in all her aged glory, Jaime almost laughed. 

He watched her shuffle forward.  He relaxed his stance and patted the horse’s neck.  “What are you doing on the road, woman?” he asked.

The bird quorked at him from the tree again, and he growled obscenities at it.  It retorted with an acerbic _good man_. 

_I am not_ , Jaime wanted to scream at it.  _I am not, I am not, I am not.  Stop following me, you cannot save me…_

“You _are_ a good man.”

Jaime felt the muscles in his neck strain as he whipped around to look at the stranger.  She stood at the edge of the road, peering at him with an unblinking eye.  He clenched his hand in the horse’s mane.  Silence stretched between the two lone figures on the King’s Road.

He should have snorted and remounted.  He should have dug in his heels and left the insane wench behind in dust and snow.  He should have spat at the bird as he went.  _I am not a good man._

Instead he asked, “What would you know me?”

The crone only watched him.  When the raven called out again, she chuckled.  Jaime did not know he was sweating until the wind kicked up across the back of his neck, and he shivered where he stood.

When still the woman said nothing, Jaime muttered under his breath and readied himself to climb back into the saddle.

“You’re a good man.  That’s what I know.”

He shook his head and glanced back her.  His heart hammered in his chest.  “I haven’t been.”

The woman made an exasperated sound, half sarcastic laugh, half a raven’s screech.  “I didn’t say you have been.  I said you are.  Open your ears, Jaime Lannister.”

Jaime let go of the horse and it danced away from him several paces.  He could only stare wildly at the woman.  “You know me?” he managed to rasp.

She chuckled and the raven cackled with her.  “I know a great deal.  I know the Dead waged war some nights ago and the living just barely won.  I know the Lord o’ Light works through a young she-wolf.  I know the night now has a few less terrors because of it.”

She stepped forward and limped a few paces toward him.  Her grotesque grin was widening by the second.  “I know mad queens fight for a seat of blood and bone, and wise men act stupid as a result.

“But that fool’s gold told me who you were.”  She eyed his hand, tone now jesting.  Jaime felt an idiot.  Heat flushed his cheeks.

“I don’t have time for your platitudes, wench.  I have to go.”  He started toward the horse.

“You do have to go,” she agreed solemnly.  “But do you know wherefore and why?”

Jaime narrowed his eyes as he grabbed the reigns.  The horse nickered and he shushed it.  _Ignore the bat.  She is crazy as a bitten fox._  

“You’re a good man, Jaime Lannister.”

“I AM NOT,” he shouted, spinning to face her.  She was right behind him.  He fell back against the horse.  How had she crossed even that meager distance so quickly?  So quietly?  The raven flapped its wings above him.

The woman seemed unperturbed by his nerves.  “Why aren’t you good?  Because of the past?”

He shifted his gaze from her cragged face, unwilling even to meet this odd stranger’s eye in the light of his shame.  She sighed and nodded.

“Aye, pasts are tricky things, and I know yours well.  Just when you think you’ve outrun ‘em, they come roaring on your heels.  Most unwelcome.”

Suddenly her old hands were cupping his face, soft, not callused like…he flinched under the touch.

“Do you know what else in your past, Lannister?”

Jaime closed his eyes and shuddered.

“You saved a woman from being raped.  And lost that hand in return.  Lost more than that to be sure.  You saved the same woman from a bear.  Defended her against those that would harm her with words or weapons.  Reigned in your anger toward a great house as you tried to make your way back to a home you thought you craved—for that same who’d have you tried for any number of sins, but kept an oath and made sure you kept yours.”

Jaime clenched his eyes shut, but a few tears squeezed out.  He tried to pull away from the woman’s grip, but she held him firm.

“You armed and armored Brienne of Tarth to save the Lady of Winterfell.”  Her name brought his eyes open, and he saw the old crone had clear blue eyes, just like hers.  “You finally saw the madness at the Red Keep and knew in your very bones that life of yours was lost and not worth finding.  You rode north toward your enemies to fight the dead, and another reason besides.

“You saved thousands of innocent lives once before, hanging a paper oath to make a difference no one ever appreciated you for.  How many are you going to save this time?”

Her hands fell away from his face, finally.  He drew a trembling breath.  The raven took wing and circled once before landing on the woman’s shoulder.  She fed it something from her hand.

“Pasts belong behind us, Jaime Lannister.  It ain’t oft I find a man whose future is behind him, too.”

The north wind battered at his back, as though striking him upside the head like Tyrion enjoyed doing whenever Jaime was seated low enough.  His shoulders hunched at the savage cold.  It died down and it seemed to him the last pull of it tugged gently at his sleeves. 

_Come back_.   

The woman smiled at him.

Jaime swept up onto his horse, mind fixed, intentions clear as they’d ever been.

“You’re wrong, woman.  My future is in front of me.”  He snapped the reigns and the horse galloped away, toward the warmer air of the south.

He did not look back.  If he had, he’d have seen the woman smiling still.


End file.
